These Are Dark Times
by DelightfulSquid
Summary: A Post-OOTP fic featuring a powerful (Not some kind of god though) Harry, canon ships (Although this isn't the focus) and an actually helpful Dumbledore. I obviously don't own Harry Potter as the staple disclaimer, and any views portrayed here are my own. Written after having been inspired by many years of reading independant Harry fic's on this site!
1. Prelude

**These Are Dark Times**

 **A/N: Hello and welcome! As the description of this fanfic states, this story follows the canon events of the Harry Potter universe up to the end of "The Order Of The Phoenix" and the start of "The Half-Blood Prince" books/films. From there forth it is a great divergence from canon, while I have the luxury of writing after the later books have been published, and thus have details of objects such as Horcruxes. I will not be following the events of these books, and simply want to submit my own take on a "Post-OOTP" fic as a great fan of other works on this site such as "Taking Control" or "Hail Odysseus". I'll leave a longer authors note at the end of this chapter detailing what you can expect should you choose to stick around!**

* * *

Fleeting and fearful looks could be seen strewn across the front page of these morning editions of the Daily Prophet. The skies full to the brim of swirling shadows and green tinted clouds, what could be made out the clearest of them all, however. Was the presence of the dark mark, it's ominous green glow a stark contrast to that of our typical English sky. There in the middle of London, the mark sat, towering just over what would be to a Muggle, "Charing Cross Road" or as it would be better known to our wizarding fellows, Diagon Alley. The papers front image quickly warped into a scene depicting that of the Ministry Atrium. Flashes of light were prevalent throughout the lobby, reporters scrambling for information like that of vultures circling a corpse, the image itself rolling onto that of a small podium on which the Minister For Magic himself stood.

The Prophet's byline, forever imposing and bold, clearly showed a most disturbing extract of knowledge, of what was once portrayed to be that of mere conjecture and slander by our previous Minister For Magic.

" _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Returns!"_

" _Minister Scrimgeour Calls For Calm" "Fudge Sacked" "Is Anyone Safe?"_

While most articles of The Daily Prophet in recent years could be compared to that of the likeness of Witch Weekly. This particular piece held a prison of facts rivalling that of Azkaban, the image of which, coincidentally, was prominently featured along several of the sidelines of the paper. While a mass-breakout of Azkaban would have almost seemed inevitable, Rufus had very little time to bolster the defences of the prison after the emergency Wizenagmont session shoving him into power with the graces of that of the aristocratic elite of our society. No, what Rufus Scrimgeour had to contend with now was the ire and wrath of the public after these damnable events throughout the magical community of Britain.

Scrimgeour dropped the paper onto his desk after a morning rivalling that of his most precarious and sensitive missions as an Auror. Leaning back in his chair he began to rub his temples to alleviate that ever-growing pain since his sudden election. Not only must he deal with the injury of Auror Dawlish whom he tasked with tailing Dumbledore on his excursions out of the country. But now, he must also attend to the pressing fires raging throughout the magical isles, reassure the public of their faith within the ministry and find a solution to the sudden lack of suitable inmate housing from He-who-must-not-be-named's dastardly breakout of his followers from Azkaban. Yes, it is indeed a fair assessment to say that the events of this morning and prior evening, makes his times as an Auror seem like a Utopian dream in comparison.

A crisp knock reverberated throughout the office not a few moments later, it seemed the relative solitude of his office in the Auror department was not to be carried over to his newfound position after all.

"Enter" Scrimgeour called out to whoever intruded on his few moments of solitude. Slightly irked at his own naivety for thinking he would gain a few moments peace.

As the door swung open, in cooly walked a man with a beige trenchcoat, stopping as he came to stand in front of The Minister's desk.

"You asked to see me, Minister ?" The man spoke, with a slight slur to his already noticeable quite accent.

"Ah, Dawlish. I sincerely hope that your memory has not been impaired by your encounter with Dumbledore?"

"No Minister?... I'm afraid I don't quite follow" Dawlish stammered in response.

"Well, I was hoping you could explain to me how it is, that when I asked you to follow Dumbledore discreetly, you managed to come back with a concussion and a broken leg? Along with no information as to the activities of the esteemed Headmaster?"

"Sir, I obeyed your orders to the letter, I followed the headmaster to Little Hangleton as you ordered. I disillusioned myself before even attempting to do so. But as I entered a house that he had taken an interest in, he simply turned to me from the doorway and stunned me. I then fell down a set of steps and remained there until Auror Kingsley came to check up on me Sir."

"I see, and you believed that a simple disillusionment charm would keep you from detection by Albus Dumbledore! Perhaps the most knowledgeable man to ever walk the walls of this ministry? Where was your Auror training, man? Blend in with the crowds, use chameleon charms to merge with the village environment for god's sake! Don't creep ominously behind him like that of a Niffler seeking gold!" Rufus exclaimed, his voice gaining a progressive amount of weight and distress as he spoke.

Rufus took a deep breath before continuing on, he had to keep a clear head for his upcoming meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister. His uncertainty for how to approach that negotiation bleeding through to his frustrations with Dawlish. Meanwhile, the man himself was shifting his weight idly from foot to foot, his face bright red with veins protruding out of his tomato-esque skin.

"Dawlish, You're to be set to work on cases for MLE, the quality of missing pets and the like for the foreseeable future until you've managed to ingratiate yourself to me or your supervisor, Is that clear?" Rufus spoke clearly and calmly, a far cry from his brief fit of rage mere moments ago.

While Dawlish may have been fuming on the inside of his now swollen face he responded with a simple "Yes Sir" and promptly exited the office. The door reverberating in the wake of his distress and now raging temper.

Meanwhile in the corner of the room, dotting the walls of this decaying and ancient office sat a simple grandfather clock. It's hands mere seconds away from signalling another sore point of Scrimgeour's imminent schedule. As the second hand glided onto the ten a simple chime found its way to the ears of the Minister. Rufus then promptly stood, and with a wave of his wand, the fireplace next to the ancient clock sprang to life. The Minister then promptly stepped into the fireplace and intoned clearly and briskly "Number Ten Downing Street" and was whisked away by the flames. Clouds of soot and ash flowing out of the fireplace and defacing the office walls and floor, just as so many ministers had done before him. Although few with this sense of extreme urgency.

* * *

Meanwhile in a more remote corner, but no less important section of Britain one could find a seemingly normal neighbourhood. At least that's the way it might appear to an outsider looking in upon the edges and rim of this odd little community. To a resident, what you might find, if you were to look close enough, are a series of strange happenings. All of which started many years ago stretching from but one place in particular, somewhere seemingly unimportant to most but holding that of the most paramount value to others.

 _Number Four Privet Drive_

In Fact if one were to look through the fringes of the frosted glass, you would be forgiven for falling upon the same illusion that has been apt for so many others. For what you would see, if you took the time to observe, Is a young man sleeping in his oh so small slice of normalcy, a stick of holly by his bedside table and a wintery companion keeping watch over his restless form as he tossed and turned throughout the night.

You might inquire as to why one would even have an owl as a pet, or perhaps why that simple stick of holly is the only thing of significance in the barren and tiny room. Or perhaps why there is no one to comfort the obviously distressed young man as he rages in his slumber. The sad truth in fact being that is no ordinary boy even for that of the wizarding world, orphaned at a young age with a strange scar adorning his forehead. Surrounding him, the notes of fate in the form of a strange prophecy. The contents of which, divulged to him not but a few days ago.

Harry Potter slept on, if you could even call his current state a form of rest and recuperation at least. The wand beside, him rattling across the table, spewing out tiny red sparks in great awareness of it's masters state. These sparks were the only source of light in the room, rebounding across the bare and bleak walls and out through the open window, where cold and callous steel bars stood not a few summers before. There below sat a lonely centurion as a guard, watching over the house as Harry potter slept inside. Keeping him supposedly safe from harm, although this measure only accounted for dangers outside of the safety of the damnable blood wards. There, outside the boy's window wrapped in his very own invisibility cloak, loaned to him by the order sat Remus Lupin. His clothes as scratchy and patchwork as ever, a testament to his very own poor treatment and losses in these past few years.

As Remus saw the red embers burn like a signal in the night, his lycanthropic senses began to quicken, becoming more alert and coherent as he felt the heat amongst the half moon's glow. His own green eyes widening at the potential implications of what he was seeing in the night sky.

* * *

 **A/N: So onto what you can expect in this fic, for starters I will be sticking to any canon ships that are out there. Not that this will be the focus of the story, although it may play a decent role, I frankly just haven't decided. This story will not contain heavy Dumbledore bashing (If it's there it's probably going to be light and relevant to the plot) so if you're looking for that you might as well stop here. As I've said in the summary this story will focus on Harry's journey and how he evolves as a character Post-OOTP. Yes he will be powerful, yes he will be independant, no he will not become a god instantly or ever (Not a massive fan of those type of fics). Anyway this is my first fanfic and I'd appreciate constructive critiscim, I know how this site can be with raging fanboys of one thing or another with beliefs that writers should change their fics to accomodate them, you aren't welcome here mate. But anyway thank you if you took the time to read this first prelude and I expect to be carrying this one on for a long time.  
**


	2. Chapter One

**These Are Dark Times:** **Chapter One**

Remus Lupin quietly pushed through the hollow entrance of The Dursley's residence, pressing the tip of his wand against the door, forcing it to obey with a few quiet murmurs and a slight flick of his wand. Pausing as he stepped over the threshold and into the main hall, he noticed a series of locks blanketing a small doorway, seemingly leading under the stairs. A stray thought passed through the forefront of his mind, reminding him to inquire as to their purpose with Harry. Pushing on however he quietly began to move up the stairs towards his stray charge, as quietly as one can move when a sense of urgency is called for at least. Not wanting Harry to suffer through the abuse of his relatives for any mistakes on his part, he quickly climbed the last few steps and then turned around on the landing of the house. There sat another series of simple brass locks, some requiring keys and others making use of a simple bolt. At this point alarm bells began to ring inside the usually calm and collected man, he could feel his inner-wolf straining at the thought of Harry's relative's behaviour. Pushing past this for now, with another flick of his wrist the locks began to recede and beckon him inside.

As he stepped into the room, his heightened senses allowing him to better perceive darkness than most others, what he observed upon entering greatly disturbed him. There on his tattered bed sheets Harry Potter lay, his scar oozing steady blotches of blood, his body drenched in sweat with his clothes clearly stuck to his thin and frail form. Harry's holly wand just as Remus had observed a minute prior on his lonesome watch still spat out tiny red sparks, but was now accompanied by an apparent vibration on his bedside table.

Remus quickly pushed forward towards Harry, no longer caring for the amount of noise he made for the grace of his relatives. "Harry? Can you hear me!" Remus shouted whilst quickly waving his wand over Harry's body. Remus was of course not a professional healer, but he was no slouch when it came to most branches of magic. He quickly began to recite any charms he could recall, the best he could check for was any physical ailments, any psychological damage from the scar would have wait Remus thought.

Remus continued to shake Harry awake, shouting his name as the lad showed little sign that he was able to hear him. His sweating becoming even more profound, Remus could also see Harry gritting his teeth maddenly as though he could feel the scar as a fresh wound. It was just then that Remus heard a screech behind him as Hedwig woke from her slumber, clearing sensing her friend's distress. Hedwig gracefully gilded above Harry's bed, landing on his pillow and beginning to softly nip Harry's ear, trying her best not to draw any more blood. While Harry began to groan in pain as his fists curled around his bedsheets Remus continued his attempts to wake him joined by his charge's snowy friend.

Several minutes before Remus managed to get a different response out of Harry, after switching his approach to cradling his head carefully, it becoming more and more apparent to him that it was best to wait out the throes of his pain, Harry slowly began to calm down. His breathing began to even out, his eyes snapping open cleary full of anxiety and revolusion at what he had just witnessed. Remus quickly stepped back from Harry, not wanting to intrude upon his personal space after his most recent loss, while the death of Sirius laid a heavy sadness on his own soul he could only ponder and worry as to what Harry must be going through.

Harry's hands began to comb through his snowy friend's white feathers, a common source of comfort he drew from his friend, especially one who was oh so familiar with his months of anguish at Voldemort's behest.

Remus on the other hand quietly thought to himself that while it had only been a week since the disaster at the Ministry, Harry certainly wasn't looking any better than when he last saw him before the Veil in the Department Of Mysteries. In fact one might say that he looked starved, his ribs could be seen poking his night shirt and his face was deathly pale. Combined with the blood around his scar and some odd bruising along his temples, Remus managed to come to his own conclusions. Certainly however, Remus couldn't merely stand in silence after what he had just witnessed and decided quickly that if he had any say in the matter, Harry wouldn't be remaining here for the night.

Making his decision, Remus conjured up a simple straight-back chair with a string of mumbled cantations and slowly took a seat in front of Harry. Seemingly studying the state of his young charge, he began to search for the right method to approaching him. On the one hand Remus thought, a direct approach might work best given Harry's issue with authority figures in the past, but Remus still felt an urge of responsibility and the desire to comfort Harry. Choosing the former Remus began to speak up, hoping that he could help the young man in front of him.

"Harry I..." Remus began, however, looking into the young man's eyes and seeing a sort of cold detachment back he quickly began to change his own mind. Quickly standing up and motioning for Hedwig to return to her perch, Remus began to quickly pack Harry's meagre belongings around the room. Pointing his wand at the one set of furniture in sight, a lowly wardrobe in the corner, he intoned a simple " _Accio_ " concentrating on the mental image of Harry's clothes being neatly packed into the trunk laying before his bed. As the doors flew open and the clothes began to do as he had instructed, Remus noticed a distinct feature in the rags zooming forth and had to swallow down a piece of bile as he noticed he had only four pieces of clothing, two t-shirts and two pairs of trousers all in mismatching sizes and a clearly dreadful choice of colour.

Chancing a look at his charge he could see that Harry was looking back at him with something more now, his orbs filled with excitement and elation as he realised that he was being taken away from here, but also remnants of confusion. Clearly he hadn't reasoned as to why Remus had suddenly appeared in the dead of night, which, Remus pondered he hadn't done the lad any favours by barely speaking to him.

"Quickly Harry, gather any of your more, hidden, belongings and grab some simple clothes. I'll tend to the Dursleys and we'll be off. Understand?" Seeing a quick nod by Harry as he pushed out of his covers and began to pry open a nearby floor board, having at a glance he could see a picture frame being taken out of the gap beneath. Remus left the room to give him some privacy though. However, now that he was out of Harry's sight it was time to let out his inner marauder, silently praying inside that Lilly would understand why he hadn't done any of this sooner. Glancing at the lock's on Harry's door and then to the bedroom of what he presumed to be Vernon and Petunia Dursley's he pointed his Cypress wand back at the locks.

" _Avifors_ " Remus clearly spoke, the locks on Harry's door suddenly transforming into small and hopefully quite loud hummingbirds. Flicking the opposite door open with his wand he commanded the birds to fly in, mentally wishing for them to sing as loud as they wish. Wanting to make sure his theories were correct before he spoke with Dumbledore about all of this.

The tiny birds quickly flew through the gap in the door frame, surrounding that of Vernon Dursley in particular and began to loudly pronounce their song. Seeing the purple-faced man wake with a raging fire burning in his throat, Remus quietly observed from the landing. Vernon had thrown the covers off of the bed and began shouting obstinate insults to the air mostly consisting of a few choice words and terms like "freak" thrown in for good measure. He then grabbed a cricket bat by his bedside and began to angrily push forward on his stubby little feet towards Harry's room, then stopping where he stood as he noticed Remus standing on the landing, wand in hand, idly twirling it between his thumb and index finger. One look at the normally mild-mannered and humble wizard showed a growing rage deep within him as he realised what Vernon would have gone to do.

Remus, his eye twitching as he moved his wand arm, quickly sent a body-binding spell at the muggle before him. Caring little for the Ministry's policy and law's on the use of spells on muggles, particularly that of hostile magics. With the bloated man now stuck firmly in place, Remus heard the door behind him opening and quickly turned to see Harry. His trunk behind him pulled by one hand, with Hedwig on his outstretched arm. He could also see Harry's wand tucked into the front waistband of his trousers, clearly an acquired habit from living here all these years. Harry's face portraying an unreadable expression as he looked on a frozen Vernon just across the hall.

"Ah Harry, I was just about to have a chat with Vernon here about your new found circumstances. Now hurry on down the stairs, quickly mind, I'll be with you in just a moment" Remus spoke calmy to Harry, seeing him then promptly hurry down the stairs, Remus turned back to Vernon. Noticing behind the awful man that Petunia had decided to throw herself out of slumber, the thought of petrifying her also crossed his mind but he figured he could wait for her reaction at what he was about to say before deciding.

"Mr Dursley" Remus spat out with a surprising amount venom beneath his words. "I'm dreadfully sorry to tell you that Harry won't be staying here for the rest of Summer. As I'm sure you're quite put out by the chance to see and "Care" for your nephew, In fact I can only apologise, being as how if my best friend were still among us, I'm sure he'd be happy to repay you for your "hospitality" to young Harry here". "Fortunately for you however, I prefer much less direct methods when dealing with pitiful excuses for people such as yourselves."

" You were trusted to take care of the boy, and while I must take responsibility for never checking up on him in his youth I can attempt to make amends for that now." Remus took a deep breath before continuing, not wanting to lose his disposition to his more ravenous side.

"You won't be seeing your nephew here again, at least not while I have any say in the matter. Consider yourselves lucky my own word carries very little weight in our world, for if that were otherwise I wouldn't hesitate to notify the Ministry of what I suspect has been going on here these last few years" His eyebrows raised whilst shooting a glare at Petunia as he said his piece. Remus then quickly turned on his heel and marched down the stairs and out of the door of Privet Drive, not sparing the house a second glance.

Outside he found Harry waiting for him, quietly huddled on the front doorstep whilst speaking to his feathery companion in low tones. His friend seemingly trying to offer some comfort to him in the cold english night as she ruffled her feathers against his hand in an affectionate manner. Sparing a glance at Harry he helped the young man up with his right arm and hefted his trunk to stand on its own.

"Now Harry, we're going to cross the boundaries of your "home", " Remus paused as he said this, his lip curling upwards slightly in disgust, "So that we can apparate away from here. Now for your own safety I'm going to wrap my invisibility cloak around you, just incase any unsavoury parties are watching this house all they will think is that we are changing the guard. Understand? " Remus spoke to Harry as he helped him to his feet.

Seeing Harry nod in assent, he quickly wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and over his head. Seeing that Harry and Hedwig were completely covered, Remus quickly shrunk Harry's trunk and added it to scruffy blazer pocket. He then began to walk towards the main road of Little Whinging, hoping Harry was following him as he had asked, not having the gift of Moody's magical eye to sense otherwise. Just as they were both about to cross the boundary of the wards, Petunia Dursley could be heard opening the front door. Remus picked up on her muffled sniffles of her nose and silent tears but didn't turn to face her. Giving a silent prayer that perhaps Lilly's sister wasn't completely beyond redemption after all, he stepped over the ward boundaries and felt a small wave of magic pass through his attuned senses.

Curiously he heard a soft gasp beside him, perhaps Harry had felt the same thing? Although as to how Harry could be that aware of the magic around him, Remus had no explanation, taking note for now, he kept walking trying to appear as passive and mundane to any observers as possible.

"Grab my arm Harry, quickly" Remus whispered to the night sky and upon feeling contact with his young charge he quickly turned on the spot, giving his wand a twist as he did so. Both of them disappearing into the night with a loud crack announcing their departure.

Unbeknownst to both of them however, a man surrounded by a dark cloak of his own looked on to Privet Drive. The house suddenly becoming clear to his senses as twinges of runic energy could be seen dancing around the borders of the property, magic arcing between currents in the air. His face featuring a feral grin as he looked upon Privet Drive. One thing was for certain however, Harry Potter was no longer under Dumbledore's protection. The man cackled to himself as he thought about presenting this information to his master and he too, quickly apparated away to give the Dark Lord this most excellent news.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! I was particuarly pleased when I received a private message containing some helpful advice. I know I may have sounded a tad hostile in my last authors note but please don't hesistate to post a review or PM me with any questions or constructive critiscim. Anyway that's the first chapter out of the way, please let me knwo what you think. I'd considered not ending this chapter on a cliff-hanger such as that but wasn't sure as to the length of chapter people would prefer. Anyway thanks guys!**


End file.
